


my hands are shaking from holding back from you

by kiriya



Category: Kamen Rider Build
Genre: (ben wyatt voice) it's about the yearning, M/M, sento is gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-08-19 17:15:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20213389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiriya/pseuds/kiriya
Summary: sento pines.





	my hands are shaking from holding back from you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jobber](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jobber/gifts).

> ryusen? in 2019? more likely than u think!
> 
> [fic mood.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vv2DSmy3Tro)

sento is a hero first, and a genius second, so whenever his brain and his heart were at odds with each other, his bleeding heart always prevails over his logical mind. 

that’s why he saves banjou ryuga, knowing full well the kind of hell he’s inviting into the (relatively) peaceful life he’s built for himself since it was reset by forces unknown. 

“i believe you,” sento tells him, when he asks. he doesn’t elaborate on how banjou’s desperation and soft pleas appealed to his inherent protective instincts — to the heroic ideals he holds onto like a drowning man looking for air. “that’s all.” 

as they share the seat of the bike, new theories begin to take shape in sento’s mind about gas tanks and men with masks. he doesn’t think about how alive their bickering makes him feel, or how warm the line of ryuga’s chest is against his back. 

**.**

sento is thrown back against the ground. the suit’s interface has turned red and its alarms are blaring right in his ears. one more hit and he’ll be forced out of his suit. sento turns, back against the ground, with a painful groan. the smash steps towards him, but stops suddenly. it dissipates, and ryuga stands behind it, triumphant. 

it’s not the first time sento has been saved by banjou, and it’s not the first time he’s felt_ this_: a rush of a warmth that starts in his chest that spreads to his cheeks. endorphins, maybe.

“we make a good team, huh?” banjou says, with the dragon bottle in his right knuckle and a bloody bruise marring the left of his wide smile. 

sento’s grateful he’s still in suit, so banjou can’t see his face matching the left side of his suit for color. 

"you’re a terrible sidekick, almost letting me die like that.” 

“oh, so you admit you needed my help?” banjou says so as he reaches a hand out, still smiling like an idiot. 

sento stares at the offer with a scowl banjou can’t see. he takes the bottles out of his belt, and the suit dissolves off his skin. accepting this feels like more than it is, like admitting he can’t do this alone. 

banjou leans down, stretching his hand further out, and sento frowns.

“just don’t forget who the real hero is,” sento tells him. 

(but, regardless, he takes the hand.)

  
  


**.**

  
  


banjou clicks easily into his life at nascita, like finding the right puzzle piece to complete an unwhole picture, or like sliding two best match bottles together in one of the panels. 

“it must be nice,” sawa, another new addition to the strange new life, says. 

“hmm?” sento muses, as he watches owner manhandle banjou into a chair so his wounds can be tended to. banjou stubbornly resists the child-like treatment, and owner whines about blood stains on his suede jacket. 

( _ “you boys compliment each other, _ ” owner had told him. _ “a best match.” _ )

“to have someone,” sawa clarifies.

the words pull at something deep in his chest, a feeling that’s no longer foreign when it comes to banjou. he should try to untangle that he thinks, but he always found himself putting a pin in the thought in favor of things more urgent. more fights, more people to save, more pressing questions sento’s past. 

they seemed to be a good fit. at home, banjou matched him for scathe, which simulating. despite being demanding of him, sento liked having him around, and in a fight, he was reliable. 

“yeah,” sento replies. “i suppose it is.”

he has misora too, and nascita, the home owner made for the both of them, when they were disconnected, confused, and didn’t know what to their power. banjou is a part of that now too. 

sawa claims to be here for an exclusive, but sento thinks it’s more than that. nascita has way of attracting lost souls, it seems. 

sento shifts his eyes from banjou’s fussing to her. sawa’s notepad is out, her eyes are eager, and the tip of her pen is on the paper expectantly. 

sawa is beautiful, he notices, not for the first time. she has big, curious eyes, and long lashes to match, but but she doesn’t make sento give the same pang in his chest like he looks at ryuga for too long. 

he looks back over to where banjou’s seated. his shirt has been discarded, and curses as misora presses peroxide into his wound. as banjou seethes in pain, his stomach clenches, revealing toned ridges of muscle. his lips feel dryer than they did a moment ago. 

he likes men. a hypothesis he’s had for a while, that banjou has just proven true. 

sento looks back sawa pointedly. 

“don’t put that in your interview.”

**.**

fire.

that’s what he associates banjou ryuga with.

he’s named for dragon, after all, so while the genius physicist is designing his suit, he keeps those motifs in mind. banjou’s reaction with the dragon bottle is powerful, and like fire, he’s always bursting with energy. Hard to control, potentially dangerous. 

but sento believes in him like he does science. with proper motivation, they can be forces for good.

ryuga is hot, too. his body temperature is higher than any human’s should be, and ryuga is so  _ physical _ with him. he demands attention from him by grabbing his shoulders, getting in his face. tries to intimidate him by puffing out his chest. his touch is searing and being near him is like being near a furnace. 

sento doesn’t like when people are that close to him, but in his idle moments, he feels colder, having known banjou’s warmth. 

_ i just want to show him the right path _ , he had told misora.

sento sets down his screw driver. 

maybe later, he thinks, when he’s defeated faust and has regained his memories, he’ll analyze his feelings more, but for now…

sento leans back in his chair and grins. he tosses his completed invention in the air, and it flies in circles around his desk. it roars happily, and opens and closes its jaw to release small puffs of blue flames. 

“cross-z,” he muses to himself, testing out the feel of the name on his tongue. 

it feels right.    
  


**.**   
  


“you should smile like that more often.”

sento stops typing and looks at banjou over the top of his monitor. banjou is leaning against the gold door frame that divides the lab and the small sleeping space. his arms are folded across his chest, and the look on his face is oddly discerning. 

“earlier,” banjou clarifies. he begins stepping towards him. sento’s pulse briefly spikes. “when you saw nabeshima and his family together.” 

sento leans back in his chair. he folds hands in front of his chest and lets his lips curve into a satisfied smile, one that easily masks his nerves. 

“it’s worth fighting for,” banjou says. 

sento succumbs to the affectionate swell in his chest and his lips twist into a smile.

his experiment was succeeding, then. 

“it is.” 

**.**

“i’m fighting this war for  _ you _ , you idiot.”

sento’s against the wall, with banjou’s fists in the lapels of his coat. banjou has pinned him here. banjou’s head is tilted towards him, and sento thinks, for a second, ryuga is gonna kiss him -

but he lets go and walks away, frustration in the tense line of his shoulders. sento slacks against the wall, feeling the loss of his touch acutely. 

things have been tenser, with the sclash driver, with touto, grease. his skin buzzes with banjou’s warmth still, but it’s not enough. the space them feels feels enormous now. sento had _ wanted _ for ryuga kiss him, and the realization makes his chest ache with longing. 

“banjou,” he says, trying to keep his voice even. banjou turns his head, but his back is still towards him. “you-“ 

“i am idiot,“ banjou says, aprops of nothing.“a dumb, selfish idiot. i’m the just muscle. it doesn’t matter what happens to me. you’re the brains, the heart. everyone thinks you’re a hero, even if i think you’re an ass. so i can’t let anything happen to you.” 

sento stops, unsure of what to say next. sento  _ is  _ a genius, the smartest man in the country, in the universe (probably), but he can’t find the right words — what does he say? ryuga shouldn't have had to do any of this for his sake, but that sento can’t imagine doing any of it without him? he needs —  _ wants _ — him more than a hero needs his sidekick. he wants to rewrite him into the story in an entirely new way. 

he may claim to be the hero, but sento can’t do this without him. doesn’t want to, not anymore. 

“all those times i call you an idiot?” sento says instead. it hurts, that banjou could think so little of himself when sento sees so much in him. “i never meant them.”

“you don’t gotta say it,” banjou insists. “i know.”

he has trouble falling asleep that night.

(but when he does, they kiss in this moment instead).

**.**   
  


“what are you doing awake?” ryuga asks from the bottom of the stairs. 

“it’s fine. i’m fine,” sento insists, not looking up from his work. 

he needs to find a way to stop it, so ryuga doesn’t have to compromise himself for him anymore. he’s a genius, it’s true, but he’s hardly invented anything. everything he’s developed has been from the bones of katsuragi’s research. he has to make something new, something - something proves he can protect as much as can destroy. 

(it’s not like he sleeps much these days anyway. death snaps at his heels every moment he stops.)

ryuga puts a hand on his shoulder and his train of his thoughts come to a screeching halt. sento doesn’t know how or when he got over here — ryuga’s never been silent about anything — but he turns, and in the room, there’s nothing but the blue light of the monitor illuminating their faces.

“it’s not fine,” banjou insists. “you need to take it easy, sento.” he says it with a softness sento’s never known from him. his brow is knitted into a scowl, but instead of frustration or stupid confusion, it’s … concern.

it’s only their breath intermingling and the quiet whir of the machines in the lab. the warmth of banjou’s hand on his shoulder seeps through his clothes, and in the silence, sento wonders if ryuga can hear his heart beating against the cage his chest, aching to get out, aching for — 

when sento first saw banjou, he saw a man in need of help, and it made the hero in him ache. sento wanted to guide him, to show him how to be a hero … but it was ryuga who helped him. sento had never wanted him to get caught up in this. he was the hero, he was supposed to be the only one fighting. sento was_ born_ to fight this war, but it had only ever taken from banjou.

yet he had become weak. he needed banjou. not just his strength, but him. the reminder of why he fought. these precious moments where ryuga looked at him, and sento could bask in how  _ good _ he is. it makes sento ache, wishing it was only them and they way they felt. 

sento wants to turn back to the screen, but he can’t. 

_ love and peace. _

idealistic, and wildly sentimental, but there’s nothing he wants more.

the room is dark, and so are banjou’s eyes, watching him steadily. he can’t stop looking at him. the shadow the monitor casts make his lips look so defined.

“i’m staying, alright?” it’s phrased like a question, but he says it with same iron resolute he says _ i’m fighting for this war for you _ . sento has never felt more helpless. banjou tightens his grip. “you can’t get rid of me.”

“try as i may,” sento murmurs, soft into the inches between them.

banjou leans down and closes the space. his lips are soft and urging, and what’s happening catches sento off-guard. he was so sure he’d be the first to cave to whatever it was between them, but banjou’s known for nothing if not being impulse. the kiss is rough and clumsy. their teeth brush just slightly, and abrutly, sento realizes he has never done this with anyone. if banjou notices, he doesn’t seem to mind.

banjou hands slide down into his, and he leads him to the bed. it’s impractical for both of them to sleep there, the way banjou’s body warms his in the small space, sento can hardly argue. the weight of his chest against back and his arms around his waist silences sento’s mind, and when he sleeps, it truly feels like rest. 


End file.
